Kerry Sherman took another look at the road. She knew she should really go up and tell her folks she was taking a walk into town, but, really, they had been impossible the whole trip up. Yes, she had blossomed into quite the little beauty, but that was no reason to micro-manage her entire life.
Parents. Every time they saw anything on television or the news, they'd always think she was doing it. She tried to tell them that the media always exaggerated things for ratings, but while they said they knew that, they couldn't help trying to both support and contain her.
Kerry looked down at herself, her medium-length, straight brown hair, which surrounded her oval face, falling to the top of her chest. Yes, she filled out the t-shirt nicely, but it was just a t-shirt. And her jean shorts, ankle socks, and sneakers wouldn't get a second look from even the most inveterate pervert.
The body inside maybe, but, hey, she didn't think of herself as any sort of sex bomb. Good enough for a soap opera, sure, but she was no model. Not at 5'3", 34C-22-33, and all of 97 pounds. No, she wanted to be an actress -- her super cute face, rich brown hair, and deep brown eyes lending themselves for soulful teenage parts.
But all that could wait until she came back from town. Taking a last look at the window of her parents' room, Kerry walked purposely back to the rear of the inn. She found the back door and knocked. She was distracted for a moment by the ripping, roaring sound of motorcycles passing in front of the house, but then turned back as the door swung in.
"Oh!" she said, taken a bit by surprise. But there was a nice-enough looking woman wearing a simple house dress.
"Yes?" she said politely, if a bit breathlessly. "Can I help you?"
"Uh, yes," Kerry said, regaining her composure. "I'm the Shermans ' daughter, in room 4a?"
"Yes, dear? What can we do for you?"
"Well, I want to take a walk into town, and it occurred to me that I wasn't exactly sure which direction it is."
"Oh, dear, I thought I told your parents all that...."
"Well, they're still resting. I didn't want to disturb them...."
"Of course, of course ... how nice of you! Come right in, my dear. I'll go get you a road map...."
"I don't want to be any trouble...."
"No trouble at all," the woman said, already disappearing inside. "It's for the best. Come right in!"
Kerry stepped inside, looking around at the quaint furnishings and old world decorations. She unconsciously noted that the windows were a bit shiny on the outside and a bit dull on the inside, but thought nothing of it. Instead she thought that moving the obviously heavy furniture must've been a bitch.
"Come in, come in," she heard the woman say as she returned.
"You have the map?" Kerry asked in her quiet voice.
"My husband the innkeeper is getting it. You having a good trip?"
"We just started," Kerry said absently. If she was concerned by the mention of a husband she didn't show it. Then she gasped and turned around when she heard the door open behind her.
Tom Brannigan was entering, holding a folded-up map. He saw the look on the cute little brunette's face, and chuckled. "The maps were outside in my car," he said. "I went out through the kitchen to get them."
He held it out to Kerry. The girl took it. "Thanks," she said. "I...." Then she heard a thunk behind her. "I just thought I'd...." She heard another thunk. She glanced behind her.
Kerry Sherman gasped, unable to breathe or move. There, over Agnes Brannigan's shoulder, was a girl. Kerry knew it was a girl from the way she was dressed. She wore a crushing blue-black demi-cup corset which adhered to her spectacular shape like an iron maiden. Her breasts were thrust up like desserts, her aureoles jiggling like cherries, her nipples their cut-off-stems.
She had no panties, but something dark, thin and tight was barely covering her sex. Most of her hips and thighs were revealed, but her long legs were encased in black stockings attached to a garter belt which came from the corset bottom. On her feet were five inch ankle-strap high heels.
Kerry could also tell from the girl's long, lustrous blonde hair. She couldn't tell from her face, because, except for her nose, she had no face. Across her upper head was an upside-down V -- a padded black leather blindfold which adhered across her ears and over her skull. From her nostrils down was a matching padded prod gag which adhered to a form-fitting collar, obscuring the girl's flesh down to her collarbone.
From her body Kerry could tell she was young -- not as young as her, maybe -- and beautiful. From her hands she could tell the girl was desperate. They fluttered on either side of her chest, her wrists locked into a harness that went over her tits, over her shoulders, and around her slim neck. The black leather strap harness rendered her into a half-armed animal unable to reach its own face.
Her knees were strapped. She tottered on the heels. She had been pounding her head on the hall wall.
Kerry's mind screamed at her to yell, turn, and run, but before the order could get through her shock, it was too late. She felt vises on her mouth and right wrist, and then blinding pain.
Then the Brannigans had her sandwiched between them; Tom with his hand over her soft mouth and her arm wrenched all the way up her back, Agnes gripping her other wrist while tearing at her shirt and shorts.
Within seconds, her filled white lace bra and matching thong panties were revealed. The Brannigans were practically cackling as Tom kicked the door closed behind him and Agnes pressed the hysterical young brunette against her husband's rock-hard torso. But after Leesa, Kerry's struggles were nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED